Karma
by Quiet Time
Summary: Gwen observes Jack being Jack and reflects.  Set within series 4. Includes Angsty Gwack, Jack/Esther and past Janto.
1. Chapter 1

**I have no idea where this came from. Possibly my muse reacting to rumors about Miracle Day. Be warned, it isn't friendly to anyone. **

Gwen Cooper watches as her friend, her boss, her lover, flirts with the new girl. Loudly, shamelessly, before her eyes, but not _for _her eyes.

Jack isn't trying to make her jealous. He's really not, and that isn't Gwen trying to excuse his behavior, though God knows she's made enough excuses for him. Excuses, justifications, every time another piece of rose-colored glass shatters. Cover stories, really. Gwen's good at cover stories now. She's had to be, without Tosh or Ianto around to do them. Jack doesn't have the patience and the others don't have the experience. Long story short, Gwen can spot anything pasted on over the truth, however well hidden. So she knows, this time, she's not making an excuse.

He truly isn't doing this to make her jealous. He doesn't, in fact, actually understand the concept. He knows it exists, but it's just a quaint 21st century thing he doesn't 'do'.

There are, however, plenty of things he _does_ do. Not just things. People, too. Male, female, and Gwen knows now he wasn't joking about non-human life forms as well.

Gwen doesn't say anything about it anymore. No point. She knows from sad experience what will happen. He'll listen with an air of patience on a good day or annoyance on a bad one then deliver a variation on the 'but you knew what I was like,' lecture. Which could equally be the 'take it or leave it' lecture. Delivered in a variety of tones ranging from amused to incredulous to the most chilling, bored.

Gwen can't leave it, though. Can't leave him. Walking away isn't an option, however much her pride demands it. She's lost too much to get this, including self-respect. Walking away would mean it was all for nothing, and she can't have that.

Gwen watches Esther flick languid fingers through her long blonde hair and pretend she isn't doing it purpose. Esther doesn't have the excuse of not growing up under 20th century moral conditioning. She's supposed to be Gwen's _friend_. Sisters-in-arms. Gwen should be angry at her, has every right to be, but somehow she can't summon up the justification. Not when she's been exactly where Esther is, and done exactly the same thing, too. Gwen's many things but a hypocrite isn't one of them.

Gwen turns back to her screen. She should be analyzing the data in front of her, but she can't stop analyzing her own lack of reaction.

She should be angry. She should be hurt.

It should feel as though her heart is breaking.

But it just feels like karma.

**I feel like I should apologise for that. Depressing, wasn't it? I think I wrote it just to get it out of my head. There's more in there if anyone's interested.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A quick disclaimer - I'm using the names and appearance of characters from Miracle Day, but the situation is completely out of my own head and will no doubt be completely irrelevant once Miracle Day airs.**

**Still not being nice to anyone, but it has to get worse before it gets better.**

* * *

"If there's nothing else, Jack, I'll be off," Gwen said pointedly.

The charismatic smile was obviously reserved for Esther today. When Jack turned to face her, Gwen only got the pout. It used to make her melt, that pout. It used to make her think Ianto was hardhearted when he answered the pout with an eyebrow raise. But Gwen understood now. She was becoming more resilient to the pout so she assumed the effects dimmed with overuse. Or maybe Ianto was stronger than she ever could be. Quite possible. Quite likely.

"I thought you might stay back tonight," Jack said smoothly. "Work to do, you know."

The trite phrase didn't fool anyone, but the rest of the team knew better than to react to Jack's blatant flirting. It only encouraged him, Rex said once, and Gwen had joined in the laughter, because it was true. If she'd blushed or protested against the innuendo, Jack would have come back with something worse. Gwen could hear muffled laughter right now, in fact, wafting across from the medical bay where Rex was assisting Arlene with the latest autopsy. They might be laughing at Jack's comment but Gwen knew neither of them would tease her about it, far less make the sort of remarks Owen used to torment Ianto with. At least she was spared that. And Esther merely batted her eyes and waited for Jack to notice her again, as deep in denial as Gwen used to be.

"I can't, Jack," Gwen said, wishing her resolve was as firm as her voice. Jack's eyes pinned hers, and the heat in his gaze scorched her to the soul, the way it always did, always had, and she might have failed herself, might have fallen again, if it was other night of the week.

Esther cut across the moment with a skill that became more practiced at every encounter. "Jack, it's Wednesday," she said, with petulance and a strategic toss of her hair. Jack's eyes switched back to the blonde and the pout disappeared. Karma again. Gwen remembered the many times she'd interrupted Jack and Ianto, just that way. Drawing the wandering eye back. Gwen told herself she didn't care. Not tonight. There were more important things in Gwen's life than Jack Harkness. At least one, anyway.

Jack turned back to Gwen. "Wednesday," he repeated. She could see the query in his eyes, along with annoyance that she wasn't meekly falling in with his wishes, and it hurt that he'd forgotten yet again.

Gwen saw the instant the dots connected. Wednesday. Gwen didn't work back on Wednesdays any more. Unless the world was quite literally going to end that very night.

"Of course," Jack said easily. "Off you go then. Have a good night."

Once upon a time, Gwen would have fooled herself that the abrupt dismissal meant she'd hurt him. Or that he'd turned away to hide his embarrassment at having forgotten. Once, Gwen would have hugged that belief to herself, made excuses for his forgetfulness. But she knew him better now. He wasn't hurt, he wasn't embarrassed, and he hadn't forgotten, not really. He just didn't consider it worth remembering.

There was nothing malicious in it. Jack wasn't trying to hurt her, would be surprised to find that she _was _hurt. What Gwen did when they weren't together wasn't part of Jack's world, so it didn't make the low numbers on the list of his priorities. Nor did Gwen, not any more. Prizes begin to lose their value as soon as they're won.

Gwen fetched her jacket and handbag, called her goodbyes to Arlene and Rex, and waved to Jack and Esther as she passed them on her way to the door. Her treacherous heart skipped a beat when Jack reached out and took her hand.

"Give Anwen a hug from me," he said warmly. Warm voice, warm eyes, warm hand squeezing hers. He kissed her cheek and turned away, back to Esther. Gwen's heartbeat returned to normal with a stutter. Part of her still hoped for an apology, she supposed. Maybe she was even foolish enough to believe that one day he'd want to come with her. But that squeeze, that peck, they were a gesture of understanding, at best. And at worst - he was giving his trophy a polish before turning back to the new prize.

Gwen lifted her chin and made her way to the door. She could still see them out of the corner of her eye but she wasn't watching on purpose. She wasn't. Jack's voice drifted behind her.

"So, Esther," he said brightly, "Maybe you could give me a hand with those reports instead?"

Once Gwen would have told herself he was using Esther to salve his pride at her rejection. She'd told herself that very same thing about Ianto.

She'd been deluded. She knew better now.

But it didn't change anything.

**Thank you for reading. This will become less depressing in the next chapter.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry, more gloom. She has to hit the bottom before she can start climbing out.**

"_So, Esther," Jack said brightly, "Maybe you could give me a hand with those reports instead?"_

"Sure, Jack," Esther agreed. It was truly amazing how the blonde woman managed to use so many 'look at me' gestures while still achieving that expression of innocence.

"I don't have plans for tonight," Esther continued. "And you did hire me for my secretarial skills, didn't you?"

About as much as he hired Ianto for his archiving skills,Gwen thought bitterly, as the door clicked shut behind her. Which was unfair, but still held a grain of truth. Esther was a perfectly competent PA, and Ianto had amazing archiving skills, amongst his other brilliance. But Gwen knew the story of how Ianto had convinced Jack to hire him, and it wasn't his brain that tipped the balance.

Jack hadn't wanted to hire Gwen, either. It was just a twist of fate that forced his hand. A random string of events leading to death and resurrection and death again. Events that created a vacancy in Torchwood. And she'd been conveniently on the spot, with an inconveniently restored memory.

Fate was a funny thing. Karma wasn't. Not this sort, at least. Not when you were on the receiving end.

-XXX-

Gwen's key turned in the lock and the door swung open, resulting in the usual feeling of relief. For some reason, she still half-expected Rhys to change the locks.

"Mummy!"

Anwen flung herself into Gwen's arms as though she hadn't seen her for a week. Mind you, that's probably how it felt when you were four. Those brief sleepy hellos and goodbyes on her way out in the mornings didn't qualify as 'quality time.' And those were the good days. Gwen was usually gone by the time her daughter awoke, and often didn't get home until she was asleep. Not today, though. Not on Wednesdays. Wednesday was Rhys' night to do as he liked and Gwen's night to be with Anwen.

Gwen held her daughter tightly, with her face snuggled into the soft dark curls. "I missed you sweetheart," she whispered.

"I missed you, too, Mummy," Anwen answered, wriggling out of the embrace. "Can we have popcorn tonight?"

Gwen flicked an enquiring glance at Rhys over her daughter's shoulder, received the nod, and stifled the pain of not being her child's primary caregiver.

"Yes, darling, we can. And a Disney movie? You pick."

Anwen squealed with delight and ran off to the DVD cabinet.

Gwen and Rhys smiled tentatively at each other in the hallway.

"It's mermaids this week," Rhys commented. "You'll have dancing fishes in your dreams."

Gwen smiled. "I don't mind. The Disney version's much nicer than the real thing."

"You'd know," Rhys agreed, looking away pointedly.

He didn't ask about Torchwood anymore. He didn't want to know. Gwen knew he blamed Torchwood for their breakup, and he was probably right, to a point.

"You look nice," Gwen said, in an effort to break the awkward silence. Everything they'd said, and all they'd left unsaid, made conversation a minefield neither knew how to navigate. But they always made the effort, for Anwen's sake if not for their own. "Still got the 'pulling top' I see." She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.

Rhys rubbed his hands down the sides of his shirt before crossing them defensively. "You can't blame me, Gwen," he said hoarsely.

"I don't," Gwen answered hurriedly, wanting to hug him and knowing she'd lost the right. "I don't Rhys, really. How could I? You're….you've been marvelous about this."

And he had. He'd been brilliant through the whole nightmare of their breakup. Telling him about Jack was hard enough, but to make a bad night worse, her admission triggered the memory of her confessing to the affair with Owen. He'd had a double betrayal to deal with, and he'd handled it with far more strength than she'd managed and less anger than she'd deserved.

When the dust settled, Rhys showed his big heart yet again, and allowed her to move back in. They lived separate lives under the same roof, but all the awkward moments were worth it just to be in the same house as her daughter. Gwen had a room of her own, with its own bathroom and its own exit via the balcony. She saw so much more of Anwen than would have been possible if she'd lived anywhere else. Morning greetings, however fleeting, being able to go to her daughter when she had a nightmare, those were precious moments Gwen would be missing if not for Rhys' generosity.

He was an amazing man. A steady, safe haven in a storm. She'd been blinded by the lighthouse and it wasn't Rhys' fault if she crashed against the rocks.

Rhys shuffled his feet. "Makes Anwen happy," he muttered. "And no sense in you paying rent on a place you'd hardly use." He looked up suddenly. Gwen's breath caught, as she realized one of the 'unsaid' was about to raise its head, too. "I'd have expected you to be living with _him_ by now." No need to ask who 'he' was.

Gwen tried to answer casually, but her throat knotted, and she could feel the burn of blood rushing to her cheeks. "He lives in the Hub," she said stiffly.

Some things never changed. Jack insisted on having a room with an on-suite included in the design of the New Hub. The blueprints designated the area as the 'on-call residence,' but it was Jack's room, all the same.

Gwen shared it sometimes, but it wasn't hers. Nor were the items she sometimes found when she changed the sheets or tidied the bathroom. They weren't Jack's either.

"I don't fancy being there twenty-four hours a day," Gwen added. A sop to her pride. Jack had never asked her to move in, or spoken about getting a place together. He'd moved in with Ianto, she remembered, just a few months before the 456 arrived. Gwen supposed she'd thought he'd do the same with her, but then, she didn't have anywhere all set up for him to swan into. Choosing a place together was far too domestic for Jack. It might actually imply a commitment. To be fair, just for the mental exercise of it, he hadn't offered commitment, never even implied it was an option. Jack considered it a huge concession that he never went beyond flirting with anyone else when she was available, but somehow Gwen failed to be humbled by the honor.

A small hand tugged on hers. Gwen looked down with a smile she didn't need to force. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"I've chosen the movie. Can we make popcorn now?"

"Give Daddy a kiss, first?" Rhys asked, stooping down.

Gwen watched the embrace with her heart in her throat. Once, she'd have been tugged into that hug, Rhys sturdy arms encircling both of them, a sloppy baby kiss on one cheek, firm warm lips against the other.

Rhys straightened up. Anwen scampered to the kitchen.

"I'll be off then," Rhys announced. Gwen hoped he couldn't see the tears in her eyes.

But of course he could. He paused at the door, turned his head, his face showing his pain. "I hope it's worth all this, Gwennie. I really do."

The door shut behind him before she could answer.

_It's not, Rhys. It really isn't._

**I think there are two chapters left. I could be wrong…..Thanks for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Gwen's going to start crawling out of the pit any minute now. **

The New Hub, as Gwen and Jack insisted on referring to it, had all the working areas on one level. So from the medical bay, Vera and Rex had clearly witnessed the latest confrontation between Jack and his – whatever Gwen was. They saw, and heard, but they would both pretend they hadn't as long as Gwen was around. Gwen took every slight with a dignity they couldn't help respecting, and neither of them wanted to be the one who smashed that dignity beyond repair.

How that level of dignity let her get to this point was a mystery that made for intriguing discussions over a glass or two at the pub. Or wherever, really. 'Cause if you couldn't gossip about your workmates, what was the point of having them?

Rex and Vera called hurried replies to Gwen's goodbye and watched as she left, without so much as slamming the door. Neither spoke until Esther and Jack were safely in Jack's office.

"Why the hell does Gwen put up with it?" Rex wondered aloud.

Vera shrugged. "In too deep," she suggested. "He'd be easy to fall for, our Captain."

Rex's dark eyes twinkled. "Jealous?"

Vera shook her head. "Relieved it wasn't me in the line of fire," she countered.

Rex raised his eyebrows. "Don't get too complacent. You could be next, Dr Juarez."

Vera smiled. "He's already got a brunette," she pointed out. "And if I'm not mistaken he's about to add a blonde to his collection." They turned their heads as a shrill giggle floated back from the office to support her theory.

"They're both girls, though," Vera added, eyeing Rex with appreciation. "I'd say you're more in danger of being added to the set than I am."

Rex chuckled. "I haven't gotten this far in life without knowing how to avoid a trap," he said. "And Captain Jack's a dangerous one."

"And he's caught Gwen," Vera said softly. "And Esther's not far off falling, either."

"Poor bitch," Rex concluded.

Vera wondered whether he meant Gwen or Esther, and decided not to ask.

She might feel sorry for Gwen, but she could also feel grateful to the older woman for providing a clear example of what happened to a moth that flew into reach of the flame. Thanks to Gwen, Vera would never get close enough to be burned.

Pity she couldn't say the same for Esther.

-XXX-

_It's not worth it, Rhys, it really isn't._

_He_ isn't.

The realization sat quietly in the darkest corners of Gwen's mind, waiting patiently for acknowledgement. Something she knew, something she rejected, something she had to accept. Now that she had, it was actually a relief. A humiliating, shaming relief. A hurt that healed. Like having a boil lanced, which might be Gwen's sense of humor trying to come to the rescue, but was still a very apt metaphor.

It was an old story that she'd fallen for, really. The same story every good girl spun for herself when she dreamed she could tame the bad boy. You might even lay the blame with Disney, or whoever originally fooled little girls into believing that Beauty tamed the Beast.

Harder still to accept the truth when the Beast had laughing blue eyes and a smile more devastating than global warming, sitting in perfect proportion to a jaw-line you could sharpen knives on. Or blunt them.

Gwen closed the storybook and looked at her sleeping child with a love so deep it hurt. She suspected Anwen had fallen asleep a few minutes earlier, but she'd finished reading the book anyway, just for the sake of spending a fraction more time at her daughter's bedside.

Bedtime on Wednesdays was a constant battle. Not with Anwen. She might go through the motions of protest, but Anwen knew the routine of story and bedtime and up early for nursery school, and it gave her life a soothing, comfortable rhythm to counteract the whirlwind that was her mother's existence. No, it was Gwen who fought with the temptation to give into the pleas for 'just five more minutes,' and allow herself to believe it was for Anwen's sake.

Sometimes she tried to tell herself Rhys was being too rigid. But it wouldn't be Gwen who had to cope with getting a tired and cranky child off to nursery school the next day. No, Gwen would be at the Hub, saving the world, or at least trying to convince herself that's what she did, while Anwen turned her tiredness into temper and made Rhys late for work.

Gwen had hurt Rhys enough already. She wasn't going to add to it, not one jot.

She knew it now. She accepted it now. She'd caused pain to people she loved and it had all been for nothing. All this time she'd just been reaching for a prize she couldn't win. Tilting for the golden ring, like the knights of old, too blinded by the pursuit to notice who got trampled underfoot.

She'd trampled Rhys. Broken a heart too good for her. She'd trampled Ianto, and hadn't had it in her to admire the way he got back up after every skirmish. And the golden ring, the prize, she hadn't realized that Ianto was holding it all along. Holding it so gently the damned prize itself hadn't even noticed, until it was too late.

Ianto. Gwen missed Ianto. God, how she missed Ianto. Not just for himself, though she missed his smile and his coffee and his steadiness and his sanity in a crazy world. But Ianto's very presence would have stopped Gwen from getting in this deep with Jack. It never would have gone beyond the flirting.

Ianto hadn't tamed Jack, hadn't even tried to, from what Gwen had seen, and she'd let herself believe the lack of effort meant he didn't really care. But the quiet unassuming Welshman had understood Jack in ways Gwen would never fathom. He'd known there was no need to tame something that would willingly follow you if you didn't chase it too hard. _And _lay its head in your lap and keep it there for as long as you were patient enough not to spook it.

No, if Ianto was still here, this would never have happened. Gwen knew now what she should have realized back then. However much he flirted and however hotly his eyes smoldered at her, Jack would _never _have left Ianto for Gwen.

If Ianto was here, Gwen would still be going home to a loving, trusting, welcoming Rhys.

And probably still dreaming about Jack while she was in her husband's arms.

Maybe she deserved it, after all.

**I have plotted out one more chapter and maybe an epilogue. Thanks for sticking with this!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Gwen sees the light, and we have Jack's POV on the whole sordid mess.**

**By the way, apologies, I was using the wrong name for the doctor, it should be Vera, not Arlene. I've corrected it (I hope).**

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Gwen rose reluctantly from her daughter's bedside, dimmed the nightlight, and crept out, leaving the door ajar so she could hear if Anwen woke.

She made her way through the silent house, to lie on the bed in what used to be the guest room, and remember how it all started. Or perhaps when it began to end.

-Flashback-

The New Hub. Jack's new office. Jack holding a battered tin box, the same one he'd had in the old Hub.

"It survived," Gwen said in wonder. "It survived the explosion."

Jack shook his head, eyes fixed on the box cradled in his hands.

"It was at Ianto's flat," Jack explained, voice ragged. "I found it with his….all his..."

Jack's head drooped. Hiding tears or fighting them back. Gwen squeezed his shoulder, tears brimming in her own eyes.

Unit had emptied Ianto's flat, as protocol demanded. At the time, Gwen was simply relieved not to have to do it herself. Too soon after Tosh, and Owen. She'd never visited her colleagues' storage units. No need, no point, and too much pain, too many memories.

Gwen looked at the bowed head and her heart fractured a little bit more.

"You did move in with him, then," she said softly. "I thought so, but you never said, either of you."

Jack shrugged. His hands trembled, and he laid the box carefully on his desk, fingers fumbling with the clasp.

"It wasn't really like that," Jack said finally, making Gwen's ire rise that he _still _wouldn't admit it.

"It just kind of happened. He got sick of sleeping in the bunker, said there wasn't enough room. He was right, of course. And I'd gotten used to the company – well, _his_ company – so…" Jack shrugged again, shoulders straightening with a visible effort. "It's not like there was a big proposal, or anything. We just sort of…...and when none of my stuff was here anymore, we kind of laughed about it….. And it was good, y'know. It was…." His voice trailed off again, but he'd finally raised his head, and Gwen saw the tears pooling in his eyes.

The box was open, and Gwen's tears fell at the photographs that emerged. One of the 'old team' or the 'old-old team' – before Gwen arrived. Suzie and Owen and Tosh at the front, Owen in the middle with one arm around each of the girls. Jack crowded in behind them, with Ianto hovering just at the edge of the shot, the inscrutable mask he'd worn while hiding Lisa firmly in place.

"Ianto took that," Jack said bleakly. "On a timer. Only just got into shot 'cause I yelled at him."

Jack pulled out another photo, housed in a smooth wooden frame. "I like this one better," he murmured, propping it on his desk.

The old team. Gwen's old team. The same pose as the previous photo, but so different. So many hopes, so many dreams looking out of the frame. Owen, exactly as before, with one arm around Tosh, the other around Gwen. Ianto and Jack at the back again, but closer this time, shoulder to shoulder with their faces turned towards the camera while their bodies angled towards each other. Gwen could estimate the timeframe from the relaxed expression captured on her own face. Far enough after the end of their affair that she hadn't felt awkward with Owen's around her, or guilty at the joy that shone from Tosh's face. It was the time when everything was good. Just before Owen died – the first time.

"Martha took this," Gwen recalled. "Said we needed a team photo. Did we ever hang it up?"

Jack nodded vaguely, fingers tracing the outlines of the faces through the glass. "Had a decent sized print in my office," he confirmed. "Propped against the wall somewhere. Never got around to putting a hook on the wall. But Martha gave everyone copies like this." A single finger lingered at the rear of the photo. Ianto.

Gwen's heart clenched in a chest heavy with guilt. She had no idea what happened to her own copy. Had she really treasured it so little?

"I miss him so bloody much, Gwen," Jack whispered.

_Him _not _them. _It wasn't Owen Jack was thinking about while his tears fell onto Gwen's shoulder. It wasn't Suzie he cried for as he clung to Gwen for comfort. It wasn't Tosh he thought about as the comfort turned into something more.

It wasn't Gwen whose name he whispered as he shuddered with release. But she was too drunk on her own pleasure to notice, too overwhelmed to interpret the strangled syllables. Too deeply in denial to accept the evidence of her own senses when it happened again.

And by the time she did, it was too late to undo, and self-preservation kept her deaf.

-End flashback-

Until now.

Gwen hadn't saved Tosh, or Owen, or Ianto. It was too late for them. It was too late to save Rhys from having his world shattered.

But it might not be too late to salvage her own self-respect.

Hours later, eyes sandy from lack of sleep, Gwen heard the door open, followed by the crash of something falling, accompanied by muffled cursing. A tired smile curved her lips. They weren't being burgled. Rhys was home, a little worse for wear.

Rhys saw her, waiting at the top of the stairs, and felt his heart begin its crawl upwards into his throat. He should be past this by now. He shouldn't care that her eyes were swollen. Her pain shouldn't still tear through his gut. But it did. He loved her. She'd treated him like garbage, she'd betrayed their vows. She'd gone to the one he'd always feared the most.

She'd proved him right, and he hated it. And he was sick of asking himself if it'd been a self-fulfilling prophecy.

"I'm going into work, Rhys," Gwen said, and his heart shouldn't be skipping a beat at the way her eyes devoured his face.

Rhys nodded. Back to _him_, no doubt. She was on her way back to the handsome boss that an ordinary bloke couldn't hold a candle to. He'd tried. He'd done his best, and it wasn't enough. _He _wasn't enough.

They passed on the stairs without touching, but the air between them hummed.

"Rhys?"

Rhys turned at the landing. There she was, stopped halfway down the stairs, just where their shoulders had almost brushed, still looking at him like _that._ And it hurt, God how it hurt. He was a pathetic fool, but he loved her still. His Gwen, his wife – they'd put in the papers, but divorce took time and Rhys despaired at himself because he knew it wouldn't be him who hurried the lawyers along. And she was stopped on the stairs, looking at him, really seeing him for the first time in so long he could hardly remember. His Gwen, his other half, dark to his light. The mother of the precious child asleep upstairs.

Only she wasn't _his_ Gwen, any more. Rhys swore to himself he could handle it, if only that prick wasn't making her so bloody unhappy.

"You asked if it was worth it," Gwen whispered.

Rhys shook his head violently. "I had no right," he said hastily.

Gwen made a choked sound that couldn't have been a laugh. "You have every right, Rhys. Every right to question me, to revile me…to….to hate me."

Rhys' head bowed, chin tucking into his chest. "I did," he confessed. "I did, but I don't now." He turned slowly back towards the stairs, knowing he had to get away, before….well, he didn't know what. Nothing good, probably. Or at least nothing that would end well. But her voice froze him again.

"But it wasn't Rhys. Wasn't worth it. _He_ wasn't….he isn't," And when Rhys looked up her hands were running madly along her scalp, as if she could pull the right words out of her head along with the roots of her hair. And he should keep walking, get upstairs and sleep and pretend this was all a dream - but he couldn't.

Gwen dropped her hands and watched Rhys through tortured eyes. "But it's not even his fault. I was…I was wrong, and I was blind, and if I could take it all back, I would. I would Rhys. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Tears dripped from her eyes and she didn't even try to wipe them away. "I know it's too late," she said, hurriedly, as if he'd stop her talking, when really he could stand here on this staircase for the rest of his life. "But I want you to know, if I could take it all back, I would. And I'd do it so different, Rhys."

Rhys gulped, breathed. Needed time to breathe. "You're off to work, you said."

Gwen nodded. "I won't be long." That strangled not-laugh burst from her lips again. "I should know not to say that, shouldn't I? I don't want to be long."

Rhys nodded. "I might see you later then."

It wasn't a promise. It wasn't even an offer. But in that moment the tiniest spark of hope for something they'd both thought long dead flickered back into life, and burned too brightly to watch.

-XXX-

Jack listened to Esther talk, watched her eyes flutter, and wanted to be anywhere else.

He should never have come back.

Jack knew now that he should have stayed out there, amongst the stars, until the endless span of life dulled the pain, the regrets. There was a whole universe full of willing bodies to lose himself in, out there.

And he tried. But every embrace reminded him of Ianto, if only by what they lacked. Ears too big. A voice that grated. Too serious or too flighty. Never the right balance of steady and sure relieved by just the right amount of humor in the angle of their brow. Or whatever passed for their brow.

Every child in the universe cried in Stephen's voice. Every youthful laugh reminded him that Stephen would never laugh with Uncle Jack again. And their mothers watched him with Alice's eyes.

So Jack returned to lick his wounds, going to ground in the only place he'd ever stayed long enough to call home. Came home to smash another life to pieces. Three lives. Gwen, Rhys, and their child. Anwen.

He watched Gwen's face every week when he carried on with the charade that Wednesdays meant nothing to him. As if every Wednesday didn't stand as a symbol of the life he'd taken from her, and from Rhys. Poor bloody Rhys. He'd taken Rhys' wife, and it didn't matter to either of them she'd gone willingly. The least Jack could do was make sure the poor man didn't have to share his child's affection as well.

Jack didn't want the affection of another child, anyway. He'd lost the right to a child's trust when he'd used Stephen's to destroy him.

Esther chatted on. Sometimes Jack felt like asking her to drop the act. To stop pretending she didn't have a brain in her head. But he supposed the ditzy blonde façade must work for her, as the playboy thing worked for him.

He didn't want to crack the façade. It was useful.

"Looks like we're done," Jack said lightly, tapping a stack of papers on his desk to straighten them. "Thanks for staying back, Esther. Time you were off, though. It's late."

Esther looked at him from under her eyelashes.

"It is late," she pointed out. "The buses must have stopped running by now."

"Charge the taxi to Torchwood," Jack offered expansively, hiding his grin while Esther hid her annoyance. He quite enjoyed the distraction of this game.

Esther couldn't get what she wanted without smashing the innocent act.

He _could _give her what she wanted. What he wanted himself. What both of them burned for, sometimes. But Jack had reached into that particular fire often enough to know what hid in the heart of the flame.

They all thought they could _change_ him. It made Jack curious, bewildered him even. Why did they want him so much if they didn't like him the way he was?

Except Ianto.

Ianto had sighed, shrugged, rolled his eyes. But he didn't complain. If Jack pushed too far, there might be a 'that's not acceptable, Jack' delivered in a calm voice, like the Super nanny, for God's sake. Decaf sometimes, maybe even a 'not tonight, Jack' for a major transgression. But still, Ianto wasn't like the others. Ianto had never expected Jack to be different. Ianto simply made it clear where his own boundaries lay, and expected Jack to respect them. And Jack had. Jack respected Ianto, accepted him with all his quirks, and basked in the warmth of equal acceptance.

The others, the endless stream of others, tried to make Jack change. Ianto made him_ want_ to change.

It got to the point where Jack wanted to be what Ianto needed. He would've gotten there, too. If they'd had time.

As much as he mourned what he'd lost, he mourned even more deeply for could have been, no, what _would_ have been. The future they hadn't had a chance to build together.

And now there was Gwen.

Of course Jack had wanted Gwen. He'd taken her; finally, in the outpouring of their shared grief, imagining it was something they both needed. A joining, a healing. An ending, maybe, but he'd never considered it would be a beginning.

Jack hadn't expected Gwen to leave Rhys. Jack hadn't _wanted _her to leave Rhys. He'd never wanted that. And he really didn't think she would, not because of a night when neither of them was thinking clearly. At least not with their minds.

She hadn't left Rhys for Owen. Jack was pretty sure the thought hadn't crossed her mind the entire time she was embroiled in the affair with the medic, so it honestly hadn't occurred to Jack that Gwen would turn up at the New Hub with bulging suitcases and bloodshot eyes.

Until she did. And he couldn't turn her away. Anyone else maybe, but not Gwen. But Jack couldn't change for her. He didn't want to. Gwen didn't make him want to change. She tried. Oh poor Gwen, how she tried. But each time she hid her anger at even the most innocent flirtation, the emotion swelling Jack's chest was irritation, not regret.

It dawned on him slowly that Gwen had never really wanted Jack, she only wanted his shell, whether she knew it or not. Jack's body, Jack's voice, a packaging she could discard at will to uncover the man she truly wanted. A man who could love her blindly, devotedly, giving all and receiving whatever she could spare. A man Jack could never be. A man Jack was too selfish to be, and knew it. But the man Gwen really wanted did exist. It was Rhys.

Oh the irony. Gwen didn't want Jack. She wanted Rhys in Jack's skin. Jack couldn't be Rhys for her. He didn't want to be.

Gwen couldn't make Jack into what she needed. By now she'd even stopped trying. Jack watched her spark fade, day by day, knew it was his fault, and still couldn't make himself change for her.

Esther sashayed out with many a pout and backward glance. Jack wondered who _she _hoped to find inside the shell that was Captain Jack Harkness, but he was too jaded to find out. Sometimes Jack flattered himself that he flirted so blatantly with Esther just to make Gwen see through whatever illusion kept her coming back; and save them both the pain of hurting her further.

Jack's office door opened again. He looked up with a smile creeping across his face, wondering what excuse Esther had come up with to return. The smile faded. It wasn't Esther.

It was Gwen. A version of Gwen he hadn't seen before. Tangled hair, reddened eyes. Lost, not lust.

"I'm leaving, Jack. Hand me the Retcon."

He didn't argue. So she was leaving him too. Probably no less than he deserved.

* * *

**I had an epilogue planned, a sort-of happy ending, but I'm not sure - maybe this is enough?**


End file.
